


So this is the future, huh?

by BakerStreetBeth



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Time Travel, F/M, Fighting the wrong people by accident, Not Beta Read, Too many people die - and they're not all red shirts either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2018-08-18 04:25:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8149057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerStreetBeth/pseuds/BakerStreetBeth
Summary: Trauma seems to follow Isabella Evans wherever she goes. Even after 250 years floating in deep space, it finds her in the form of aliens, psycopathic ex-boyfriends and death of those around her





	1. Chapter 1

This is a little strange; beyond strange, in fact, almost heading into what I'd classify as abnormal. I was lying on my back staring up at this lid type thing but I don't remember getting put into it so I can only conclude that it happened after I fell asleep. That was at the hospital, after I was told that I was dying of blood poisoning, and gangrene; the doctor said that it was down to the cloth that they used to stop the bleeding after I broke my leg. They said that it had been a very complicated break, because the bones were poking out and the head mechanic had used the first cloth to hand; unfortunately for me, that was a dirty rag.

I heard things now; a mixture of different voices, and mechanical bleeping though a very loud hiss made me jump, but I realised that the noise was only someone letting me out. As I looked around, a man in a blue t-shirt, hunkered next to me, said “Take it easy, kid. You’ve been asleep for at least two hundred and fifty years.”

“Well done, Bones. Tell her that she’s been asleep for a quarter of a millennia, before we even know when she’s from,” a younger man, in yellow, scolded. “What’s your name, pet? What was the last date you can remember?”

“Isabella Evans; the date was July thirtieth twenty-nineteen. It was a Tuesday; never did get the hang of Tuesdays. Where am I?” I replied.

“This is the Starship Enterprise, registration n-c-c one-seven-oh-one. The stardate is twenty-two sixty-nine point two thirteen. And from the date given, you have been asleep for precisely two hundred and fifty years.” A man with weird eyebrows and pointy ears told me.

“Meaning what exactly?” I couldn’t work out what the date meant.

“It’s the thirtieth of July, twenty-two sixty-nine.” The man in blue, Bones, said absentmindedly while running a little hand held device over me, peering intently at the screen on another device in his other hand.

The man in yellow said, “Nice one, Spock. You’ve just given her brain freeze even before Bones has made her better. ‘Sides, Bones, what’s wrong with her?”

‘Bones’ had been scanning me with a strange contraption said, while sitting back on his haunches, “Ummm, weird combination of blood poisoning and gangrene. She’s gonna have to spend some time in Sickbay, just until I’m sure that it’s been treated.”

“Why does he call you ‘Bones’?” I asked, curious.

“’Cause all I’ve got left is me bones; I’m really Leonard McCoy, CMO of this blasted bucket of bolts.”

“Nice to meet you,” I addressed the man in yellow. “Who are you?” 

“Jim Kirk, I’m the captain of this here tub. That’s Spock, and Sulu’s over there.” He said, jerking his thumb towards the pointy-ear guy before pointing to a dark haired man in yellow, who gave me a friendly grin and a wave.

“Fair enough; can you treat whatever’s wrong with me?” I asked McCoy.

“Yes, easily; now, speaking of treating you, young lady, we need to get you to Sickbay. Can you walk?”

“No, I lost most of my right leg to the gangrene. I don’t suppose that you’ve brought any crutches?”

“’Fraid not; you can hop, or get carried but please bear in mind, Sickbay’s a long way to hop.”

“I’ll get carried then. Who’s going to be doing the carrying?”

As he thought about the answer, Spock said, “I will carry Miss Evans, Doctor. I am the strongest here.”

“Alright, don’t drop her, mind.”

I lifted my arms, only for him to pull me into a reverse fireman’s carry. As he straightened up, all the blood rushed to my head, and I addressed his knees, “Alright, then. I hadn’t seen that one coming.” I could hear laughter, which evidently meant that they thought I was being funny, even though I hadn’t intended to be.  
A while later, we swished through anther set of doors; there was a lot more people here, mostly wearing blue. After depositing me on a bed, Spock told McCoy, “I must leave now, Doctor. My duties are on the bridge.”

McCoy scowled, and muttered, “Pointy-eared hobgoblin,” at Spock’s back, as he left.

Eventually he realised that I needed treating as he started rushing around Sickbay, to find the things that he needed. The next week or so passed in a blur of people and a variety of ‘hyposprays’, but when two men came in, things started to perk up; an older man in a red shirt with a ripped shoulder, the skin beneath bleeding, entered carrying an unconscious girl of about eight or nine in his arms while the other was younger and in the smoking remains of a yellow shirt, occasionally slapping at patches of shirt that looked like they might catch fire again as he trailed behind the other man.

“What have you done?!?!” McCoy bellowed, rushing over to the trio. 

“Well, the panel was on fire; when it started to spit fire at us, I pushed her away and she fell and hit her head. It was an honest mistake!” The one in yellow exclaimed, waving his arms and clearly oblivious to the fact that the shoulder of his shirt had caught fire again.

“Aye, doc, it was a simple mistake. He was trying to protect the lass; she just got hurt in the process. ‘Ere, Chekov, your shirt’s on fire, again; right shoulder, you wally.”

As the younger man started to slap his arm out, I was able to process the accent of the older man quickly. “’Scuse me, mister; are you from Edinburgh?”

The man in red looked at me, “Aye, lass, I am. How can ye tell?”

“Accent; I spent four years around others with it while I was at the university there.” A movement over his shoulder caught my attention; Chekov was twisting round in circles while attempting to swat his shoulder out, giving up after a few more circuits to yank the whole thing up over his head and throwing it to the floor, grabbing a fire extinguisher off a nearby wall to put the now flaming pile out with a few well aimed blasts of powder.

He tenderly laid the girl onto a bed and came over, chuckling at the antics of the man in yellow, “What did ye do there, then, lass?”

“Mechanical engineering; almost graduated, too, but I died two sodding days before the graduation.” I then realised that I was so far away from home, I almost broke down.

“Don’t cry, lass, the University is still there. They’ll prolly let ye graduate easy; we are three years away from home, mind.” He thought, “Wait a dang minute, lass; what century are ye from?”

“Twenty-first. Why; does it matter?”

“Know a fair bit of that century engineering. Gonna be able to teach ye on the way back. Chekov knows a fair bit too, don’t ye lad?” He said, raising his voice so that the curly-haired man heard

‘Chekov’ hopped off the bed that he had been pushed onto by the doctor after putting his shoulder and made his way over. “Da. Mister Scott, why haven’t you had your shoulder seen to?”

“Good point, lad. I’ll catch Christine on me way out. Anyways, get to know the lass, will ye, Chekov? Speaking of you, lass, what’s ye name?”

“Isabella Evans.”

“Nice to meet ye, Missy. I’m Montgomery Scott; Scotty to most. Is Bella okay with ye, lass?”

“Yeah, that’s fine; I’ll have to call you Monty cause, to me anyway, Scotty is a breed of dog.”

As Monty hooted and left to be attended to by a blonde woman with a delicate scowl on her face, I turned my attention to the guy standing next to me. He was kinda cute, with gently defined muscles under the palest skin I’d seen on someone with brown hair. I looked up into his face and realised that his eyes were the same colour as the eyes of my first boyfriend, Liam. I noticed that his ears had gone pink and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“So, you’re Russian then?” I asked, because it was getting kinda awkward. 

“Da; my name is Pavel Andreievich Chekov. It is very nice to meet you, Miss Evans.” His eyes flickered to my face as he said this. She is very pretty, his face seemed to say, but such a shame about what happened. 

“Bella, please,” I said, with a glare that would’ve killed a weaker man. “When do you think that McCoy will let me out?”

“It depends. Your... conditions were very severe. Doctor McCoy will probably let you out in a few days.”

“Okay, seems legit; what’s up with you then? It looked like second-degree burns.”

“Da, it was; one of the engineering panels was on fire and I got in the way when it started spitting.”

“Ouch! That must have hurt. Who’s that girl you carried in? Is she a friend of yours?” 

“Oh, her? She is Joanna McCoy, and we are friends, yes.”

“That’s nice. She really looks like him, doesn’t she?”

“Hmm, da,” he seemed distracted.

McCoy walked over to us and said, “I told you to sit down twice already.”

“Извините!” Chekov climbed back onto the bed, looking sheepish.

McCoy looked vacant, “Come again?”

“Sorry! Sorry!” He replied, with a shy grin.

McCoy turned to me, “You should be able to leave tomorrow, but for now I’m going to put you over there, next to Jo. Just so you you'll have someone to talk to when she wakes up.” I sat up, slid off the bed and let him help me hop to the bed next to her. He then left to carry on his work. 

When she came around she said, “Hi! I’m Jo McCoy. Who are you?” She looked at where Chekov was sitting and gawped.

“Bella Evans. He's quite fit, isn't he?"

“He is, isn't he? Cute to boot and I’ve never seen him with his shirt off.”

I laughed, “Fair enough. You’re American, right?”

“Yeah; South Georgia. You sound like Scotty; are you Scottish?”

“Nah, I went to Uni there; grew up not far from London, actually. Last time I saw home was nearly two hundred and fifty-five years ago.”

“Last time I was at home was almost two years ago. You’re looking good on two hundred plonk.”

“I was two hundred and seventy-two last birthday.”

“Really?”

“No, silly, I was twenty-two; got put in cryonics.”

“Dad says there are two types of that thing. What type were you?”

“I was the dead type. Gangrene and blood poisoning; I had extreme cases of both so I died within the week.”

Her eyes went wide, “What happened?”

“Badly broke my leg. So badly there were bones poking out. They used a dirty cloth to try to prevent severe blood loss but ended up giving me blood poisoning instead.”

“Nasty! Makes being knocked out seem pretty mild.”

I noticed that Jim Kirk had entered and was coming over.

“Hello ladies.” 

“Hiya, Jim.” Jo piped up

“Why you here then?” He squinted at her, bemused as to her injuries

“Got knocked out in Engineering.”

Nodding, he looked at me “Know why you’re here. Why’s there a half-naked Chekov over there?”

“Second-degree burns.” I replied.

“How do you know?” He asked, puzzled.

“Had a fair few myself. ‘Sides, only second-degree burns blister like that.”

“Ah. When you get released, I'll get Uhura to find you a room. And some clothes.” He said, giving me the once over.

I frowned and looked down at myself. I found that I was still only wearing my nightie and my slipper. I didn't have much use for the other one as there was no foot to put it on, but I had wedged it on my stump to save having to carry it. I also realised that my old teddy-bear had been pulled out of the pod and I had been absentmindedly stroking its soft head as a comforting reminder of my past.

Kirk looked at my bear, “What on earth is that scruffy thing?”

“That 'scruffy thing' is a teddy-bear, you moron.” Bones said coming over. “Don't you remember that tatty old giraffe that Jo had when she was smaller?”

“Oh yeah! That bear is in a better state than your giraffe, Jojo, and it is way older than yours.”

“Yeah, but as I remember you pulled his head off! I cried for a week until Daddy mended him.” Jo said, scowling at the captain.

Before Jo could reach over to steal my spare slipper, I butted in by saying “My Uncle kept stealing mine whenever we met; I always cried until he gave him back. Luckily for me, my sister was his next victim.” 

Everyone laughed before carrying on with whatever they had been doing before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little update on this fic

A technical glitch with my memory stick means all the saved chapters I had have been deleted. As a result, I'm discontinuing this particular fic, but this story will be continuing in another one. Keep an eye out for that and please do stick with me on this.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are love! As are volunteering to be my Beta 'cause I know too many different writers that are all better than I am... so if you would like the job, drop me a line and I'll send you the next chapter.


End file.
